


The shades of our past selves

by Monna99



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Kakashi as Iruka's ex-student, Konohagakure | Hidden Leaf Village, Older Iruka, Young Kakashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99
Summary: It was later than usual by the time he got home because he and some of the other academy teachers had stopped off for drinks after a long day.





	1. Rust and blood

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot.

“Now you’re in business,” Iruka declared after inspecting the quick work of the leg wrapping.

“Wasn’t that cool, sensei? I’m gonna be the fastest in the class now!” Sara-chan high-fived him, leaping to her feet.

Iruka smiled, glad she was making quick progress in mastering the basics. She’d been heartbroken when he’d sat down with her to seriously discuss her future in the academy. She was lagging behind her peers in every area. After multiple unsuccessful interventions, the next step had been expulsion. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She bowed deeply. “My mom and dad are so proud of me for getting into the academy.” She straightened and smiled tearily. “I didn’t want to let them down.”

“They’re proud because you’ve fought hard for your dreams, Sara-chan.” He patted her shoulder. “Keep it up.”

“Yes, sensei!” 

 

It was later than usual by the time he got home because he and some of the other academy teachers had stopped off for drinks after a long day. Exams were closing in and they had to make sure everything was ready. 

He sighed, flicking on the light switch and leaned down to remove his shoes at the genkan, feeling pleasantly sloshed. Warmth and goodwill coursed through him, making him ache sweetly with the promise of arousal. Nothing urgent. Not yet. He let his head fall back on the closed door, wishing he had some company tonight. God, it had been too long. He was reaching down to adjust himself when he froze, hand halfway to his crotch, the back of his neck prickling with awareness. Someone was in his apartment. 

There. A figure. Dark eyes watching him. 

He threw his hand back and hit the lights, plunging the room into darkness once again, reaching silently into his shuriken holder, grabbing three, readying to throw even as he flitted to the right, keeping the wall at his back. The silhouette that had crouched on the windowsill was gone. He stayed low and regulated his breathing, keeping his senses open to any movement or fluctuation. Anything that would give away the intruder. 

He still wasn’t fast enough to dodge the weight that plowed into him, knocking him back on his ass but he saw enough that he tossed his shuriken clear as he fell back, cutting his palm in the process, to keep from hurting the boy accidentally.

“Kakashi-kun?” His heart was still going berserk in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins so fast his hands trembled. He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and pushed him back, but Kakashi clung to him so tightly he couldn’t put any space between them without hurting him. “Kakashi-kun.” He kept his voice low, soothing. “You’re safe. It’s okay.” He tried to pull back but again was unsuccessful. “Hey,” he murmured, “what’s wrong? Tell me.”

There was nothing, but he could feel Kakashi shake his head against his chest.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, thinking. “I’ll make you a deal.” He squeezed Kakashi’s shoulders. “We can stay like this as long as you need, but afterward you’ll tell me what happened.”

There was no response from the boy, no noise from him at all and Iruka’s hair stood on end. His hand groped blindly for the light switch overhead until his scrabbling fingers found it and threw it on.

He wished he hadn’t. Oh, Kakashi-kun. He let his own arms close around the boy, holding him tightly, and buried his face against that soft spring of silver hair, breathing in the scent of rain and blood that clung to the boy. It wasn’t Kakashi’s blood, he was certain of that. There were no wounds on him that Iruka had seen in the grieved, disbelieving stock he’d taken. 

He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, Kakashi perfectly still, making no sound at all and Iruka breathing unsteadily as useless tears leaked past closed eyelids to land on the brand new fog-gray ANBU uniform soaked through with blood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another tidbit from this story! I may add more, it really just depends of when/if inspirations strikes so i'll leave it at two chapters for now.

The morning shone out bright and beautiful. Frost sparkled on leaves and rooftops and windows. Dewdrops caught the sun and broke the light into a dazzling prism of color. It had even snowed lightly the night before, a delicate fall that glistened and would be gone once the sun was at its zenith. If only the previous night could be wiped away as easily. 

Inside the apartment, a gloom still permeated the living space that had not dissipated despite the warmth radiating from the fireplace. Maybe because he hadn’t managed to get a moment of sleep. Iruka rubbed at his eyes and exhaled sharply. He looked back down and began scrubbing again. The water swirled living red then pink before draining away. He wasn’t going to be able to wash it out. The uniform was stained and there was no way to get it back to its former pristineness. Some things simply couldn’t be undone. 

He glanced to the living area at the boy sleeping curled up under two blankets on his spare futon. Mussed gray hair peeked out from underneath a lump of covers. A too-small lump. Iruka wrung the uniform -- it was as clean as it was going to get -- and shook it out, setting it to dry on the small veranda. He breathed in the cold morning air, listening to the utter quiet and stillness, wishing the day would simply stretch into eternity. A moment crystallized in time in which Kakashi would forever be warm and safe. Unlikely. His hands shook as he pushed his hair back, noticing the ANBU mask raised toward his apartment from the street below. The shinobi was utterly still, making no attempt to hide his - or her - presence. The bulky wrap made it difficult to determine gender. Didn’t matter. ANBU were keeping watch on Kakashi. He stepped back inside and closed the sliding door, heart pounding, palms damp. Kakashi must not have reported in last night after his mission. Had it gone wrong? All that blood …. 

He leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, apprehension burgeoning. What had happened last night? He had to find out because he was determined to help. Whatever the boy had done, he would not let the village simply lay blame at his feet. A child was not a man, and he should never have been made to take on the role of one. Iruka was damned if Kakashi would be disciplined for the mistakes of adults. 

He straightened, anger burning through him as he thought about the boy’s now precarious situation, making it difficult to reason past the red haze. He’d be no good to anyone blinded by emotion. He needed to plan. He needed to think. He also needed a bath, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel clean again. Last night had been … difficult. 

He’d held Kakashi for two hours, the boy refusing to be moved, refusing to let him go. It made Iruka’s heart break anew to remember it. Kakashi had come to him, had sought him out and that stunned him because the boy had never been emotive - hell, he’d never seemed to have a heart, period. Kakashi had been quiet and withdrawn in school. And coldly contemptuous of others. But maybe Iruka had gotten through to him after all, even when all his attempts to connect with the seemingly emotionless boy had been rebuffed. 

He thought back now to those days and had to swallow bitter guilt and regret. He should have known. He should have protected Kakashi then.

Iruka took a shaky breath and busied himself making a quick breakfast. Kakashi would be awake soon and he wanted to have something prepared. The motions of chopping and grating and washing were automatic, his mind still on the past, on that child. He’d been so much younger than the other children at the academy. A prodigy. And, as expected, he’d shot ahead of his classmates.

Within a few short months, Iruka had been kindly informed of the decision to remove Kakashi from his class several minutes before it had happened. He hadn’t been told that Kakashi would be removed from the academy altogether. He hadn’t been told that the boy would be taking the chuunin exam.

He’d been outraged when he finally found out the plans for Kakashi five months later. Of course he’d protested when he’d discovered it. He’d demanded an audience with the Hokage, with the chuunin teachers, with the exam judges. None of it had made a difference. And as the weeks wore on, in the upheaval of training thirty plus students in the use of dangerous weapons and techniques, Iruka had lost track of the boy.

He flinched at the sudden, sharp whistle that came from the street below and realized he’d been standing there, frozen for some time. Water was overflowing from the small basin. He cursed and slapped at the handle, turning it off, water running over his fingers like the blood had earlier. His stomach heaved, but he took a sharp breath and braced his hands against the counter, head hanging as he fought to control the urge to vomit. 

It was a battle he nearly lost when he was assaulted by the memory of the last time he’d seen Kakashi. It had been such a beautiful day. Not unlike the lovely day now. He remembered Kakashi had been no more than thirteen and Iruka had spotted him as he’d been walking out of the training grounds with a few fellow instructors. They’d been planning the next chuunin test together.  
_  
“Kakashi-kun!” He was so relieved, so relieved to see the child again. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how concerned he’d been. He grinned widely when that ruffled head turned his way and the kid paused. The jounin at the boy’s side stopped as well and frowned at Iruka. Iruka mentally flipped him off and jogged over to his former student. “Kakashi-kun, I heard you made chuunin, congratulations. I’m very proud of you.”_

_The jounin crossed his arms, impatient, as Kakashi gave a clipped nod._

_“Well,” Iruka said, forcing a cheer he no longer felt, “I’m sure in--” He stopped cold, stepping closer, realizing that there was a tail-end of a scar peeking out from the gap between the boy’s trademark mask and the hitae-ate. Just where his eye was. “What--” A glacial fist took hold of his heart. Kakashi was not wearing his hitae-ate slanted as a fashion statement. “Kakashi-kun, what happened to your eye?”_

_It wasn’t the boy who answered. “You’re very curious about a superior officer, chuunin. Curiosity is not a trait we value in shinobi.”_

_Ugh. Bureaucrats. Iruka very nearly glared but managed to restrain himself to grinding his teeth. And then the words hit him with all the force of an exploding seal. “Superior officer?” he repeated faintly._

_The jounin glanced down proudly at Kakashi. “He will be soon. He’s testing for jounin.”_

_Iruka’s relief had been immediate. “Sure,” he agreed easily, blood still pounding loudly in his temples. “Someday.” His relief was short-lived._

_“Hatake Kakashi,” he heard called from behind them. “You may enter.”_

_Kakashi and the jounin turned as one and walked to the entrance of the training grounds. The training grounds that Iruka and his fellow teachers had vacated because the jounin exam was due to begin. He snapped out of his stupor and lunged after the pair, catching Kakashi by the shoulder. “Wait!”_

_The jounin flicked an irritated glance his way. “We have important matters to attend. Kakashi does not have time for you.”_

_“Kakashi-kun,” he said, addressing the boy directly. His fingers dug into the bony shoulder and he ignored the jounin, “Why are you here? Please tell me you’re not taking the jounin exam.”_

_Kakashi frowned and he made a point of staring at Iruka’s hand until Iruka removed it. He glanced up, gaze indifferent and said, “It’s not your concern.”_

_“Kakashi--”_

_“Mind your own business, chuunin.”_  
  
He’d tried stopping Kakashi again, of course, but the jounin had blocked his path and Kakashi had walked away without looking back. 

It would go down in Iruka’s memories as one of his darkest days. He’d never argued with the Sandaime the way he had then. He’d said cruel things and had been a breath away from getting himself locked up for insubordination. But when he’d seen that shinobi lead Kakashi away for the jounin test ….

He’d looked so young, so vulnerable. 

Iruka closed his eyes, not for the first time wishing he could simply erase that memory. He’d hated himself for being a weak coward and not intervening further, but he couldn’t have done more except get himself stripped of his position and rank. And he would have sacrificed both gladly, but Kakashi had made it clear he’d needed no help and wanted it even less. _Mind your own business, chuunin._

So Iruka had shut his mouth and walked away, hands clenched, teeth gritted. He’d done his damnedest to drink himself into oblivion that night and he’d nearly convinced himself that he’d succeeded. 

Nearly. Only not quite, he thought, glancing again at the boy. Alert, dark eyes watched him back. There was no hint of sleep in that gaze. He must have been awake for some time. Iruka straightened and wondered, _What now?_


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, Kakashi-kun,” Iruka greeted quietly. “How are you feeling?”

The boy’s unblinking gaze remained fixed on him. He seemed not to have heard the question as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes with his fists. The child-like quality of the gesture made Iruka’s heart turn over. Then that troubled gaze met his and the boy flushed, throwing off the covers and standing quickly. His face was set, any hint of vulnerability wiped away. But for all the seriousness, there was an air of shame that clung to him as he awkwardly began to fold up the sheets, silent.

Iruka nearly stopped him, but he bit his tongue and set to serving up breakfast instead. He would feed the boy and they could take things one step at a time because he honestly had no idea what to do next. No idea how to best help.

“Hey!” he called a few minutes later, noticing just as Kakashi was putting his hand on the doorknob. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The miniature Anbu’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn, didn’t remove his hand. 

“Kakashi-kun,” Iruka said sternly, “it would be very rude of you to leave now after I’ve made you breakfast.” He set the plates down on the kitchen table and waited.

The kid held out longer than he would have thought. “Sensei …” He clearly wanted to bolt. Too bad. He’d come to Iruka for help, or maybe just for human contact. Regardless, Iruka wasn’t about to let him walk out now.

“I’ve had a long night and I’d really like some breakfast, Kakashi-kun, so please join me.”

He certainly wasn’t above using guilt, and that did it. The boy dropped his hand and turned, still hesitant. The room was completely light now, the shadows scattered by bright rays. It made the dark circles stand out more prominently on the boy’s face, the heavy bags under his eyes a testament to his lack of rest. What had the committee been thinking making such a young child an Anbu? What could possibly justify such a thing? 

Iruka waited, patient, as Kakashi approached. He nodded encouragingly and pulled out his own chair, relieved when the boy followed suit. 

“Thank you for the meal.”

The words were barely above a mutter but Iruka caught them. Maybe he should have tried making small talk, tried to engage Kakashi in conversation, but he was absolutely dead tired and heartsick to boot, so they ate quietly. The clink of chopsticks against plates and bowls filled the apartment. Slowly, almost against his will, he could see Kakashi relaxing, easing into the quietud.

Iruka began to feel more at peace, himself. The stress slowly bled out of his shoulders and his natural optimism began to reassert itself. Everything would be fine. The Sandaime was a good man, he would set things right. Iruka would make damn sure of it. 

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t immediately notice the strange stillness. 

Suddenly Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, seemingly coming out of a stupor. His gaze sharpened, and he grabbed at Iruka’s hand -- the newly bandaged hand -- accidentally pressing too hard against the cut and reopening it. It was fairly deep and blood immediately soaked the too-thin, hastily-made wrapping. Iruka jerked away reflexively and the kid frowned, sitting back slowly, eyes on the offending appendage. “How did that happen?” he asked, tone low and the words clipped like maybe he already suspected.

“Yesterday,” Iruka lied easily, “I decided it’d be a good idea to have my students practice with kunai.” He grimaced for show. “Not my best moment,” he added ruefully. 

“Oh.” After a moment Kakashi relaxed, seemingly satisfied with that answer and he stood to retrieve a towel from the kitchen. “Here,” he said, offering it after folding it up into a neat square, “put pressure on that.”

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you,” he huffed. “I do know how to take care of a basic injury.” He may as well have saved his breath. Kakashi was already gone. Seconds later, sounds drifted out from the bathroom.

“Your medicine cabinet is woefully inadequate in its first aid selections,” the kid informed him as he emerged, carrying far too many supplies for such an insignificant wound.

“You planning to operate on someone?” he asked lightly.

Kakashi stared at him blankly for a long time. “No. Why would you ask that?”

No sense of humor. Right. He had to remember that. He watched, silent now, as Kakashi set about arranging the rather comical amount of materials. He pulled out two rolls of bandages, three securing clips (unnecessary, the dressing could be tied), tape (see previous), anesthetic (why?), lubricant — Iruka wasn’t going to touch that one — and sealant spray. He bit his lip against the protest that wanted to break free. Sealant was expensive, so he kept it strictly for emergencies which this most certainly was not. But he couldn’t say that to Kakashi when the boy was clearly only trying to help. He seemed too fragile still, unsure of his welcome, ready to startle back at any hint of reproach. 

“Let me see your hand.” He was no nonsense, face set, lips pressed tightly.

Iruka couldn’t help himself. He shoved his hand under the boy’s nose for inspection and said, with a quaver in his voice, “Tell me, Doctor, will I live?”

The mini jounin looked startled for a moment before gifting Iruka with a confused frown. “You were always doing that,” he muttered speculatively. “You were constantly playing the clown, trying your hardest to be amusing.”

From the mouth of babes, Iruka thought ruefully. Ouch. 

“Why?” the boy queried, looking genuinely confused. “You’re a shinobi. You should take pride in your post, you should—“

Yeah, okay, enough of that. “We’re still human.” He held that too-serious gaze, all traces of amusement gone. “We’re still human,” he repeated. “There are many who believe that being a shinobi means being a weapon with no feelings.”

The boy nodded absently in agreement, listening intently.

“But we’re not weapons, Kakashi-kun. To believe that is to ignore the very reason we do the things we do. We don’t fight because we love war, we fight because we love our people more so even than our own lives.” He placed his hands on those shoulders, shoulders that carried too many burdens for how narrow they were. “That means you don’t have to pretend to be emotionless; you’re not. It’s only because of our capacity for caring that we would risk everything. Don’t run away from that.”

The boy’s gaze searched his, looking for what, Iruka had no idea. And he had no idea if he found it. “Oh,” Kakashi uttered quietly. It was several minutes before he looked down at the supplies and seemed to remember that he’d meant to do something with them. Unhurriedly, still thinking, he picked up the disinfectant ointment, opening it.

Iruka waited. 

“I thought …”

_I know what you thought. I know what you were taught_ , he thought grimly. The same thing Iruka himself had heard all those years ago in the academy. _Emotions are a weakness. You must rid yourself of all weakness._ It was untenable, unconscionable, that those words continued to be parroted to students. It was a toxic cycle he was determined to break.

Kakashi leaned forward and removed the kitchen towel, closely inspecting the wound. He gave a satisfied nod and gently spread the ointment on the edges of the cut, then reached for the lube. That was just unfair. It was too early in the morning and he’d gotten far too little sleep (none to be precise) to be dealing with this.

Kakashi opened the small bottle and Iruka flushed. “That— umm …” He was a grown man, he would not fidget. “Kakashi-kun, that isn’t for—”

“Lubricant is not merely a tool for masturbation or sex,” the _child_ explained calmly. “I realize medi-nin mostly include it in packs for shinobi who choose to engage in anal penetration, however--”

Iruka was going to pass out. All the blood was surging much too quickly to his head. He tried to open his mouth and a whimper emerged. 

“— the jounin with whom I partnered explained that when I began to feel sexual urges I could use the lubricant if needed. Of course, as a jounin, I don’t need to resort to—”

Kakashi had gotten the sex talk from a shinobi. And during a mission, from the sound of it. That thought crystallized and stood apart, everything else fading to the background. It made Iruka unbearably sad. The boy was an orphan, he remembered, like himself. But unlike Iruka, Kakashi had grown up much quicker and under considerably more dire circumstances.

“-- medi-nin taught me that applying it after the ointment will seal the wound and keep it from being infected, and it helps minimize scarring.” 

“Did you learn that after what happened with your eye?” he questioned evenly. 

Kakashi’s fingers paused in their meticulous arranging of the wrapping. The eye in question was on full display, the hitae-ate momentarily abandoned on the low table in the living area. Iruka didn’t expect a response, he had done nothing to deserve the boy’s trust, after all. But short minutes later, Kakashi nodded jerkily before quickly using the sealant spray. “Using it over the bandages will keep the skin from getting irritated while still soaking into the wound and providing an adhesive for the skin,” he explained at Iruka’s questioning look.

“I didn’t know that.”

Kakashi began to carefully stack the supplies, careful and purposeful. “I discovered it after much experimentation.”

Iruka stopped admiring the boy’s handiwork and studied him. “Experimentation with injuries?”

A short nod was his answer.

“ _Your_ injuries?” he pressed stupidly. The breakfast nearly made a reappearance then at Kakashi’s droll look. He wanted to press further, but he could see the boy beginning to close up, to compartmentalize and store his emotions as neatly and efficiently as he did the supplies. It was an unsustainable practice, though one all shinobi employed. No human, no matter how emotionless they appeared, could simply … not feel. Kakashi could not continue to suppress his emotions, one way or another they would surface. Better it be in a controlled environment with people he could trust. The thought gave him pause as he studied Kakashi who was diligently avoiding his gaze. Did the boy have people he trusted? It made Iruka’s hands dampen to think that the child might count him as one of those people. But surely not the only person? It did not bear thinking about. He cleared his throat and stood, surprising Kakashi into looking at him. “Well, the good news is I don’t have classes today. Why don’t we make a short visit to the Hokage and then we’ll swing by the academy? I’ve got some planning I need to do for next week.” He began to gather the dishes and continued to chat blithely about the next round of assessments his kids would need to pass, ignoring the way Kakashi tensed at the mention of the Hokage. “The last place you probably want to see is my classroom again,” he acknowledged, lips curled wryly, “but you’ll just have to endure the torture,” he teased lightly. “At least there won’t be any students there today.”

He nearly stumbled over his own feet when he saw those tight lips loosen and curl ever-so-slightly. “I don’t mind. I liked your class,” Kakashi revealed, voice low so that Iruka had to lean forward to catch that astounding declaration. 

He blinked. “You did?” Maybe he shouldn’t have sounded quite so surprised. 

The kid stood, arms laden with the first-aid supplies. “I’ll help you clean up and then we can go,” he agreed coolly. 

Iruka pretended not to notice that his knuckles were white where he clutched the bandages. He pursed his lips, making a pretense at thinking hard. “If we’re going to have an audience with the Hokage I should address you properly.” Kakashi frowned, looking confused. “Well, you are, technically, my superior officer.” He drummed his fingers on the table, considering. “Hatake-san? Hmm, that doesn’t quite do it. How about jounin-san? No? Kakashi-sama?” He surprised a startled, pleased grin from the boy and huffed. “Yeah, keep dreaming, kid,” he groused, deliberately reaching out and ruffling that bird-nest of silver hair, garnering a quick laugh out of the boy. “I’ll call you that the day you become Hokage,” he declared, rolling his eyes.

Well, he couldn’t have known then that years later he would have to make good on that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just having fun with this story. Not sure it'll be a fully developed story or have a clear ending. I'll just revisit it as the mood strikes. I also have NO idea where I'm going with this, but it's fun to explore!


End file.
